Twelve Hours at the Magic Kingdom
by OuEstLaCraie
Summary: Nineteen-year-old Andrea takes little sister Amy to Disney World for a belated birthday gift. Hijinks ensue. Set pre-apocalypse, of course, and full of fluffy, sisterly nonsense. One-shot.


Fluff and fun and nonsense! I own no one and nothing. Apologies in advance for not having been to Disney World in far too long and writing about the rides/layout mostly from memory.

Also, a warning: I had a friend read this and fall on the floor from the feels. Just letting you know ;)

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**Twelve Hours at the Magic Kingdom**

Andrea sat sweltering in the sun outside Disney's Big Thunder Mountain Railroad at ten in the morning and cursed the guilt her mother had built into her. When she'd been on the phone with her little sister, Amy, almost a month earlier, she'd never expected to be held to her grandiose Walt Disney World plans. When Andrea was away at college, her seven-year-old sister seemed far away, and Andrea always forgot that Amy was so full of life, already a real live person and no longer the drooling infant or terrible toddler she'd been. Across the country, Amy was an angel. Sitting with her on a sunny April morning at Magic Kingdom, though, Andrea realized the truth in the phrase "absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"The parks close in twelve hours," Amy was saying, swinging her legs over the side of the bench. She poked her big sister in the side. "Clock's ticking."

Andrea tried not to gnash her teeth at their mother's favorite phrase coming out of her baby sister. "We've been here a million times, Ames," she replied, her eyes closed against the familiar Florida sun underneath her sunglasses. "You know this place front and back. We'll hit your favorite rides and then head home."

"_You've_ been here a million times," Amy sulked. "You're _old_."

Andrea lifted her head and narrowed her eyes at her sister, biting her tongue on the word _brat_.

"I want to see the lions," Amy whined.

"One park," Andrea snapped back. "We agreed, remember? You ;pick the park and the rides, and I pay for everything."

"But I only want to see the lions," the little girl continued diplomatically. "That won't take long."

"Amy, I'm not paying to get into another park." Andrea cringed when Amy's lower lip began to quiver. "Hey, how about we go through the caves on Tom Sawyer Island?"

Amy crossed her arms over her chest and threw herself back against the bench in a huff. "They're stupid."

This gave Andrea pause. Who had taught her baby sister the word "stupid"? Which punk-ass kid in her first-grade class had convinced her that Tom Sawyer Island—once their favorite place, since it was all-ages-friendly—wasn't worth her time? Andrea sat forward, resting her hands on her knees, and glanced back at her sister. "What do you want to do, then?" she asked carefully.

Amy shrugged.

"C'mon, kiddo." Andrea smiled and lifted her sunglasses. "Twelve hours, right? What's your favorite thing to do in the Magic Kingdom? We can do that the whole time, if you want."

Amy met her older sister's eye. There was suspicion in her gaze. "Really?"

"Truly."

Amy considered, then stood and caught one of her sister's hands. "Let's go."

Andrea allowed herself to be led back towards the front of the park, marveling again at Cinderella's castle and refusing to buy Amy any candy at so early an hour _and _before they'd been on anything vomit-inducing. They walked up and down Main Street USA, making retching noises amongst the tourists, then Amy led the way towards the Tomorrowland Indy Speedway at the back of the park.

While waiting the thirty minutes on line and making small talk with Amy, Andrea again had to wonder when her baby sister had gone and grown up. Before she'd come home for spring break, Andrea had last spoken to Amy on her seventh birthday, back in mid-March. She had pictured her much smaller, then, with her hair done in the bowl cut Mom hadn't given her since Amy was four. Now, Amy was nearly at her big sister's hip, with her long blonde hair pulled back into a sensible ponytail for her day of frivolity at Disney World.

It was that fateful call on Amy's birthday a month ago that had landed nineteen-year-old Andrea with babysitting duty today. She hadn't been able to come home for her sister's birthday—the first time in her life she'd been able to weasel out of it, the first time she'd had an excuse good enough to skip out on bounce castles and six-year-olds-turned-crack-addicts by Pixie Sticks and birthday cake. This year, Amy's birthday had fallen on a Saturday, warm and brilliant. Their mother had made a point of telling Andrea that, adding, "It's a perfect day, Andie. If only you could be here to see her smile."

When Amy had gotten on the phone, Andrea had sung her "Happy Birthday to You" in a voice strained with guilt. She had listened intently as Amy babbled about the party to come. It was Mom's words and her sister's remembered smile that had driven Andrea to offer up in a rush, "How about a Disney day when I'm home, just the two of us? On me." There'd been stunned silence on the other end of the line. Andrea knew it had been too long since she'd put aside being a teenager long enough to spend time with her baby sister. She'd smiled to herself. "Happy birthday, kiddo."

"Happy birthday, Andrea!" Amy had replied automatically, hurriedly handing the phone off to their dad to run off and tell Mom about Andrea's birthday gift from hundreds of miles away.

At noon, after taking a few laps around the track and crossing the park to wait on another line, Amy and Andrea were strolling out of the Haunted Mansion. That had only been their second ride of the day—Andrea's choice, at Amy's insistence—but the crowd had grown exponentially and the temperature flirted with an ungodly eighty-five. Andrea was missing the air conditioning in the pseudo-scary house behind them, but she put on a smile and squeezed Amy's hand. "Your turn to choose the ride."

"Can I pick a…place?"

Andrea rolled her eyes and slid her sunglasses back onto her nose. "We're not leaving the Magic Kingdom today—"

"Tom Sawyer Island," Amy interrupted shyly.

Andrea tried to hide her grin, sing-songing, "Told you so."

Amy scowled until they were shrieking and laughing deep in the winding caves, chased by ghosts and flickering shadows. They climbed rocks and crossed swaying bridges, until Amy announced that she disliked Frontierland and demanded Andrea pick a new section of the park to head towards. To spite her baby sister, Andrea dragged her on the riverboat that paddled around Tom Sawyer Island, positioning a frowning Amy on the prow and snapping her picture for later blackmail opportunities.

The day continued in much the same pattern for the next few hours: Amy picked a thrill ride, or something requiring running and scrambling over climbing walls, and Andrea retaliated with the most boring ride she could think of. They didn't bother to stop and see the characters. Amy was only interested in rides, especially since she'd met her idol, Ariel, when she was three years old. Mickey and Minnie hardly mattered to the little girl.

After the riverboat debacle, Amy dragged Andrea back to Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, gazing wistfully at Splash Mountain the entire time they were on line. Andrea's next choice included the long wait for the bane of every human being's existence: It's a Small World. Amy agreed to do Peter Pan's pirate ships next, because they were so close and out of the sun, then Andrea made for the carousel, an old classic. Amy forced a few yawns atop her grinning horse, seemingly sure that her baby belligerence would win out over her sister's time-perfected trolling skills. When the carousel stopped turning, Amy made a mad dash for Pirates of the Caribbean. As punishment for running off, Andrea considered heading back to Liberty Square for the Hall of Presidents, but she knew that even she couldn't withstand that. The deepest circle of Hell was certainly a reproduction of the freezing room filled with presidential animatronics. The sisters agreed to head over to Space Mountain after Pirates and, when they finally got off the ride, Andrea realized that she'd forgotten to feed her little sister all day.

Amy almost fell asleep over her hot dog, seated at a picnic table in the shadow of Cinderella's castle. Watching her sister through guarded eyes, Andrea put on a light tone and asked, "Whaddaya say, Ames? Had enough for today?"

"No!" Amy replied adamantly, her voice suddenly shrill with nerves. She proved how ready to keep going she was by sitting up straight and stealing some of her sister's French fries, redoubling her conversation with demands for ice cream, candy, stuffed animals, and souvenir pictures. Andrea let her talk, waiting for the hot dogs and fries to settle in their stomachs, then hushed Amy with a spin on the nearby teacups. The darkening sky and the wind whipping through their hair cooled the sweat from the skin and made them shiver, so much so that Andrea eventually broke down and bought them a sweatshirt to share—gray and warm, printed with Disney princesses across the back and down the sides. It was a little too small for Andrea and hung to Amy's knees, but at least the little girl had a chance to grow into it someday.

The sisters found themselves back on Main Street, contemplating the hats in a shop window. Andrea glanced in the direction of the park gates, then appraised the growing number of people around them. If they skipped out on the nighttime festivities and left now, they could be home in two hours.

"Can we get hats?" Amy asked suddenly, looking up at her sister and gesturing to the Mouse Ears on display.

"Oh, come on, we have a million of those at home," Andrea replied, and she figured her estimate wasn't very far off. They lived so close to Orlando and they'd had a season pass to the parks for most of Andrea's childhood, it was impossible not to collect a ridiculous amount of Disney memorabilia. The family's attendance had dropped off a bit with Amy's birth—financial strain, parental strain, et cetera—but the memories were still stowed in boxes in the attic and garage.

"Not ones with our names," Amy said quietly. She'd picked up on Mom's reproving tone in Andrea's voice, too, then.

Andrea sighed. "Why do we need hats with our names?"

"So we don't mix them up," Amy said, all seriousness.

"We wouldn't mix them up. My head's too big and yours is too little. And what about when your head gets too big to wear yours anymore?" Andrea ruffled her sister's hair affectionately. "Your head's already grown three sizes since we got here, I think. Why are you gonna make me use up all my money on a dumb hat that won't fit you tomorrow?"

"It will fit," Amy said. She looked up at Andrea, her eyes wide and earnest. "It will be a memory."

That was another Mom line. Their dad was a quiet storyteller, borrowing from fantasy and dreams, but their mother was a realist. She wanted every movement documented for posterity. Souvenirs were "gifts" from a new place; every picture, every scrap of napkin, every seashell was a memory. That was probably part of the reason why they'd stopped traveling much as a family. Either that, or Mom's mind was going and she needed the scrapbooks to bring out and show not just the neighbors and extended family, but herself, too.

Andrea patted Amy's shoulder. "I'll give you one of my old ones tomorrow," she said. "That'll be a memory, too."

Amy nodded slowly. The look on her face told Andrea that the kid thought she was being duped, but didn't know how to fight it.

"Almost parade time," Andrea continued, hurrying onto a new topic to avoid further discussion. Her wallet couldn't take another hit. "Do you want to stay and see the Queen of Hearts, or should we hit the road?"

"The parade's dumb." Amy walked into the crowd, clutching her big sister's hand and leading her into the fray.

Andrea tugged Amy back to her side. "It is not," she replied, scandalized, leading them safely to a quiet table outside an ice cream parlor. "Tinker Bell flies in at the end."

Amy rested her chin in her cupped hands, the zip-up sweatshirt pooling around her elbows. "She doesn't," she argued back. "It's a lady on a string. They're all just playing pretend here."

The sisters stared at each other across the table. Andrea was beginning to think that Amy was either over-tired and in desperate need of bedtime or in the midst of an identity crisis. "Since when are you so cynical?" she wondered aloud. Amy tilted her head a little to the left in response. "Nevermind," Andrea said, then rested her cheek on her fist. "Question, kiddo—so what if everyone's playing pretend?"

Amy looked at her sister like she was crazy.

"I mean…" Andrea was struggling to explain the nuances of growing up and leaving childhood behind to her seven-year-old sister. "Aren't you happy here, anyway? Even if you know they're all pretending?"

"Not all of them," Amy replied, just a hint of warning in her tone. "Ariel's real."

"Yeah. Of course. But Tinker Bell and everyone. Don't you have fun here still?"

"I love Disney World," Amy agreed.

"See?" Andrea slid around the bench to sling an arm over her sister's shoulders. "You can love it, even if it's pretend. You can go to parades, even when you're my age, and you can still love to see Tinker Bell flying over everybody."

Amy looked at the table in front of her and walked her fingers along the edge. "I don't want to go to the parade," she said, so soft that her sister hardly heard her over the crowd around them.

It was definitely an identity crisis. "That's okay," Andrea told her. "But what about…fireworks?" She grinned. "Illuminations, over at Epcot? That's always cool. We can take the monorail."

"We've seen that, too." Amy made a face that brought the word _brat _back to the tip of her big sister's tongue. "I want to do something different."

"Like, MGM? We haven't been there in awhile." General consensus in their house was that the only one who truly enjoyed herself there was Mom. She'd get swept up n the movie magic and leave Andrea and Dad (in the time before Amy) to wait on endless lines for the Tower of Terror or wander the _Star Wars_-themed shops. Andrea didn't even know what happened over there at night.

But Amy was shaking her head vehemently, demanding again, "Let's do something _different_."

"Like what, Ames? I'm at a loss."

Amy looked over one shoulder, then the other, then stood up to try and see over the crowd. She took her big sister's hand and tugged tentatively. "It's a surprise."

Andrea raised one eyebrow, but otherwise kept her thoughts to herself and followed the little girl back into the heart of the Magic Kingdom. Most people were heading in the opposite direction at this hour; already, the sound of music and small children cheering floated to Andrea through the still air. A few of the die-hards, however, were running towards the more popular rides—per the guide books' instructions—to get in a few quiet rides before the park closed for the night. The sisters crossed into Frontierland, hand-in-hand, and it was a literal ghost town.

"What are we doing here, kiddo?" Andrea asked suspiciously. Amy didn't reply. But, by then, they were close enough to hear the rush of water down the mountainside and the little girl didn't have to say a word to explain herself. Andrea began pulling back on her little sister's hand to slow her down. "Absolutely not."

"_Annnn_dre_aaaaa_."

"No," she said firmly. "Mom said not until you're older. Splash Mountain is a big kid ride."

"I'm seven," Amy replied, as if that was argument enough.

"Sorry. Still little kid status." Amy opened her mouth to argue, but Andrea held up a warning finger and continued, "Amy Grace, I said no. Now, parade or home: you choose."

Amy's face shook with barely-contained sadness as she looked up at the peak of Splash Mountain. A log boat crested the top of the track; the mountain held its breath. Then, the boat tipped over the edge and a pair of exhilarated cries rose up into the night air, followed by the telltale wave of water, crashing over the pavement. Amy looked back at Andrea, whose eyes hardened.

"You'll get scared," her big sister said. "It's higher than it looks."

"I won't," Amy insisted, her voice trembling.

"It's too cold," Andrea tried. "It's dark and you'll have to ride home all wet. You'll get sick and Mom will yell at us both."

Amy peeled off the sweatshirt and shoved it at Andrea. "I'm not cold," she announced. "Please, Andrea, I wanna go!"

"Mom said no."

"_Annnnnnnnnnnn_dre_aaaaaaaaa_."

Andrea turned her face away to curse under her breath, then turned back to her little sister and commanded, "Stop whining." Amy clammed up in an instant. Andrea crouched down in front of the little girl, grabbing first one arm, then the other, and helping her back into the sweatshirt. She put one hand on each of Amy's shoulders. "You will be a good girl," she directed. "For the rest of the night _and _the rest of the time I'm home."

Amy nodded, hardly daring to breath.

"You'll drink lots of OJ tomorrow so you don't get sick." Another stoic nod. "We'll have the heat on in the car on the way home and you won't complain about feeling like you're gonna puke." A nod. "If you get scared, we can't get off the ride. Understand?" Amy nodded again and Andrea sighed. She didn't like hearing Mom's voice in her head—or popping out to reprimand Amy in the Happiest Place on Earth. There would be plenty of chances for their mom to ream Amy, for things both more terrifying and far more trivial than Splash Mountain. Weren't sisters for helping you break the rules?

Hadn't Andrea been seven when she and Dad first took the plunge?

"One more rule." Andrea gave Amy a small shake to hold her attention and drive the point home. "Mom _never _hears about this. Not even when you're my age."

Amy's face broke into a glorious grin. She grabbed Andrea's hand and forced out her pinky, locking her own pinky around her sister's. "I pinky swear," she assured Andrea.

Andrea hugged her little sister, then stood up and put a hand on Amy's head. "Come on, kiddo. We've got a date with destiny."

As the sisters wound their way through the labyrinth of the waiting line, one boat left the station with four passengers. Aside from Andrea, Amy, and the bored ride operator, Splash Mountain was deserted. Andrea and Amy waited behind the line, as directed, as another boat came into the station and discharged three teenagers. The sisters slid across the wet front seat. Amy took Andrea's hand and refused to let go.

Amy largely ignored the story of story of Brer Bear and Brer Rabbit, until the part when she and Andrea joined in with a rousing chorus of "Zippity-Doo-Dah." Suddenly, all too soon, there came the mechanical clatter of the ascending chain and the boat was juttering upward, toward a tiny spot of night sky.

"We're going…up there?" Amy whispered.

Andrea grinned and squeezed her hand. "Makes it more fun."

They rose higher and the sound of the parade crowd grew louder. There was more music now, probably due to the performance aspect of the nightly festivities. Distant rumbles hinted at impressive fireworks displays somewhere in Walt Disney World.

"Oh," Andrea said, the mouth of the cave yawning nearer, "they take your picture on the ride, too. On the way down." She laughed. "Don't forget to smile!"

Amy let go of her sister's hand and gripped the bar in front of them. They'd reached the peak now and the view was incredible. They were aloft long enough to see two separate fireworks explode in the sky, trailing sparks and smoke over the revelers.

"Ready?" Andrea called over the roar of the water. Amy looked up at her sister, her face frozen with fear. "Don't worry," Andrea said, and she put an arm around her little sister. "I've got you. Just hold on. And scream!"

The boat tipped forward and Amy let out a piercing shriek. Andrea screamed in response to the sound, but quickly recovered and began to laugh as they shot down the mountain. She beamed at the camera, blinded by the flash as they slipped seamlessly under the briar patch. The water rose up around them and Andrea swelled with pride to hear Amy laughing, too, before they were both drenched.

The boat made for home and the sisters climbed out. Amy was talking incessantly, about how she hadn't been afraid at the fall, about how much fun she'd had, about how Andrea was the coolest sister for letting her go on the ride. "Not a word to Mom," Andrea reminded the little girl sharply, then led her through to the picture counter.

"There we are!" Amy sang out, pointing to one of the monitors. And the picture was perfect. Amy's shriek of terror had been forever immortalized by the Splash Mountain camera, her eyes locked only on the bottom of the waterfall. Andrea sat up straight beside her, a cheesy grin on her face. Andrea glanced down at her sister. "What do you think? Good enough to buy?"

"It's our memory," Amy agreed, then put a finer to her lips and added in a whisper, "just for us."

"I like the way you think, kiddo." Andrea ordered a single five-by-seven in the commemorative cardboard frame and handed over the exorbitant asking price without batting an eyelash. This would be the kind of picture to show Amy's first serious boyfriend, her prom date, her fiancé. Someday, Andrea liked to think she'd be Maid of Honor at Amy's wedding, sobbing over this memory in her toast. She handed the picture to Amy. "Take care of that," she directed with a kidding smile, and then they made for the park gates. Andrea thought they might still beat the closing crowds out, but she didn't much mind anymore.

In the parking lot, Andrea pretended to have forgotten where she'd parked the car, so Amy skipped along at her side, high on adrenaline, singing, "J4, J4, we parked the car in J4." When they made it to the four-door compact, Andrea sat Amy on the hood and brushed the tangles from her hair as best she could with the brush from her glove compartment, hoping the strands would dry straight enough to fool Mom. She tugged the wet sweatshirt from her sister's tiny frame, then hustled her into the back of the car and tossed the sweatshirt over the front passenger seat.

Andrea slid in behind the steering wheel and reminded Amy to buckle up, then did so herself and started the car. As she backed out of the spot, she smiled at her sister and asked, "Good day, Ames?"

Amy held the picture to her chest and shivered. But she grinned back. "The best."

"What's the only rule for today?"

"Don't tell Mom."

"You're awesome."

Andrea followed the signs out of Disney World and onto the highway, blasting the heat once she could do a steady sixty-five. After half an hour, the backseat had fallen silent. Andrea glanced in the rearview mirror to check on her little sister. Amy was out, her head lolling across the upholstery and the sweatshirt, still damp, draped over her legs as a blanket. She had her arms locked over her chest, her viselike grip never leaving the memory she clutched against her.

Andrea drove along in silence through the Florida night with a soft smile on her lips. She'd have to find a way to pry that picture out of Amy's little fingers before she went back to school. She wanted that in her dorm room. She wanted her friends to know what a badass little sister she had. She wanted to remember Amy like this, as a tiny adventurer, asleep in the back of her used Toyota. Andrea turned down the heat a little and watched the night through the beam of her headlights. She just wanted to remember all of this.


End file.
